This story uses characters and locations based on the Gunslinger Girl manga written by Yu Aida and published in monthly shōnen magazine Dengeki Daioh. The characters of Kara and Michele are original to myself. “Yoake [夜明け]” A Gunslinger Girl Original Story by Kiskaloo “Heaven is not enough…if when I am there I don’t remember you.” – Yoko Kanno. On a warm March Wednesday, in the passenger seat of a Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder parked on the side of the Autostrada 24 in a suburb east of Rome, Fleda Claes Johansson started to cry, her sobs drowned out by the flow of late afternoon traffic though Michele could see her chest heave and see the tears stream down her face. He removed a clean handkerchief from his pants pocket and handed it to Claes, who turned towards him with eyes red from tears and cheeks red from embarrassment. “Gratzie,” she said as she dabbed at her eyes and wiped her cheeks. She sniffled with a sharp intake of breath through her nose and her face set in a hard look, only a moment later to collapse into a fresh bout of crying. She buried her face in the handkerchief and willed herself into composure. “Crying like a schoolgirl rejected by her crush,” she said, her tone harsh. “You were conditioned to love him. And now that you remember him, it’s natural to miss him knowing that’s he is gone,” Michele offered. “What we shared wasn’t really love,” Claes noted. “I mean I did love him because the conditioning made me, but it made him uncomfortable.” She took in a few deep breaths to steady herself. “I’m okay now. We can go,” she said. Michele nodded and started the car. He waited for a break in the traffic and pulled out, setting course for the SWA compound. Chapter One – Trial Run “Okay…Understood,” Michele said before closing his phone as he waited for Kara and Claes to exit the building where they were having a mathematics lesson with the other cyborgs, this Friday being an instructional day for them. Neither he nor Claes had spoken of her recovering her memories two days before. Michele waved each of them over as they exited and they started walking back towards the dormitories. “The final pieces are in place for the operation Alessandro and I have been working on,” Michele informed them. “So he and I are will be travelling to Foggia over the weekend for a meeting with the Nabateans.” “Who are the Nabateans?” Kara asked. “A shadowy Arabic tribe around the area of Jordan and the northern area of the Arabian Peninsula. They were traders, specializing in luxury goods and slaves, but they also provided prostitution services and saw their strongest power starting around the fourth century BC. Their capital city was Petra in Jordan and the Modern Arabic script traces it’s history back to them.” “Very good, Claes,” Michele said, impressed. “I had to look it up, myself.” “One of the books in Mister Ra—in my library was Travels in Syria and the Holy Land by Johann Ludwig Burckhardt. In it he details his discovery of Petra and that led me to study the Nabateans,” Claes replied to their unasked question on how she knew about it. “Maybe one of the gangsters who comprise the operation is a history buff,” Michele hypothesized. “Anyway, we’re going to meet one of their senior people.” “Like a consigliere?” Kara asked. “You’ve been watching The Sopranos again, haven’t you?” Michele said. Italian television had started carrying the show and it was proving to be popular with many of the staff in Sections 1 and 2. “That’s a Mafia term – specific to the American Mafia, at that. The people we are working with are Camorra and the closest term would be something like caporegime – this person will name the soldato who will head the operation in Barletta and oversee the picciotti. They will also report back up to the capo bastone.” “Shouldn’t I go with you?” Kara asked. “There is a good chance Matteo Amati will be present and he’s going to wonder why my girlfriend is with me and not back in Bologna at University. He concealed it well at that meeting, but Alessandro said Amati contacted him afterwards, worried about your ‘sense of discretion’. Alessandro assured him you wouldn’t be a risk, but I’d rather not push our luck.” “I don’t like you being without support,” Kara said. “Alessandro is taking Petrushka with him,” Michele noted. “I could come,” Claes offered. She continued on before either Kara or Michele could counter. “I can hang around outside on the street, able to both keep an eye out and rush in to help if needed.” Michele rubbed his chin in consideration. “I’ll take it up with Alessandro,” he said. Saturday morning Alessandro, Petrushka, Claes and Michele all exited the briefing room after their final mission update. The drive to Foggia stretched some 400km ahead of them via the A24 and A25 Autostrade to the Adriatic and then south on the A14 along the coast. “Looks like fine driving weather,” Alessandro noted as he removed the top to his smart fortwo. “You promise not to leave us behind, right?” he joked. “All bets are off once we reach the coast,” Michele said with a smile as he started the engine of the Gallardo and retracted the convertible roof. Claes slipped into the passenger seat and strapped in, a large book at the ready to keep her occupied. The drive east along the A24 unfolded without event and within an hour they were joining the A25 at Teramo and cruising towards Pescara on the Adriatic Coast. The A25 ended at the junction with the A14 just outside the city limits and they pulled off at a service area to stretch their legs. Thanks to a Foehn wind coming off the Majella and Gran Sasso mountains to the west, the usual rain and humidity had been banished and sun and temperatures in the upper teens blessed the city and down the coast. “Instead of taking the A25 all the way, how about we go into town and connect with Strada Statale (State Highway) 16 along the coast?” Michele offered. “The drive should be more scenic and we can catch a nice meal in Vasto.” “Sounds good,” Alessandro noted. “Do you mind if Petrushka and Claes swap rides for the run to Vasto? She’s been bugging me about your car.” “I am not bugging you,” Petrushka said, crossly. “I was merely noting that it looked like a nice car for the weather.” “Be my guest,” Claes said with a shrug. Michele opened the door and Petrushka slipped in, albeit a bit awkwardly. “If you’d been wearing a miniskirt instead of shorts we’d have seen your underwear,” Alessandro joked, causing Petrushka to blush and stick her tongue out at him. “When Kara drives wearing a miniskirt she folds her legs like origami in order to get in without putting on a show,” Michele noted. They started the cars and returned to the A25, which ended at the A14 interchange on the outskirts of the city. It became SR602, which they followed past the airport and all the way into the city proper and onto SS16, which went its way along the coast. “This is very nice,” Petrushka complimented. “Does Kara like driving this car?” “She prefers the Ferrari because it is more of a racing car,” Michele noted. “This is not?” Petrushka asked. Michele looked over at her and smiled. He downshifted two gears and the car surged forward. “Petra…” Alessandro growled as the Gallardo left them behind. He dropped a gear and started to give chase. “How is your training going?” he asked Claes. “Fine,” Claes replied, her face focused on the scenery outside the window. “You’re getting along fine with Michele?” “Yes.” “Kara, too?” “Yes.” “That’s good,” Alessandro said, deciding to give up on trying to start a conversation with her. Instead he turned on the radio. They reached the port city of Vasto and stopped for an early lunch. Afterwards, Claes and Petrushka switched places again and they continued on down the coast to where SS16 intersected with SS693 and followed that through the region of Molise and into the region of Apulia. They drove around the Gargano peninsula – the “spur of the boot” of Italy – to the commune municipality of Mattinata, famous as a seaside resort with a number of nice hotels. They checked into a villa hotel right on a steep ridge and the rooms had huge terraces that provided beautiful views of the beach below and the Adriatic beyond. “This place is perfect for a honeymoon,” Alessandro noted, again causing Petrushka to blush, but this time she didn’t stick her tongue out. “It’s not very kid-friendly, but then I don’t expect you’ll be running along the beach or doing laps in the pool,” Michele noted to Claes with a smile, though she didn’t smile back. They checked in to adjoining rooms and opened the door between them before unpacking and transforming themselves into their personas for the meeting. Alessandro changed into his “Niccolo Baggio” persona, adding a black wig, a mustache and what he liked to call his variation of a “rap industry standard beard”. He’d left Rome dressed in a long sleeve print button-down shirt in “Italian Plum” overlaid with a beige ornate floral print worn over sand-colored lightweight chino cotton pants.